What Is an American Movie Now?
Track news that interests you.
I. Is the Face of America That of a Green Ogre?
This year's Cannes International Film Festival epitomized the extraordinary global reach of American films -- sometimes to the point of absurdity. There were thrilling movies at Cannes -- movies that told original, compelling stories about life in Senegal and upper-middle-class Paris and the jungles of Thailand. But those movies (and many others) contrasted sharply with the American films spotlighted at the festival, whose chief purpose, it seemed, was to please the widest possible audience.
Along with weapons, movies are among our most lucrative exports to a waiting world, and in the last seven years or so, it has become clear that the expected audience for nearly all American-made studio movies, the audience they are designed and created for, has shifted from the 50 states to the global marketplace. This change in perspective has, naturally, resulted in a change in content: nuances of language or the subtleties of comedy do not translate easily between cultures, but action or fantasy or animation is immediately comprehensible, even if you live in, say, Japan, which is the country that most big studios long to reach. Films like this year's "Troy" (which was shown at Cannes), "The Day After Tomorrow" and "Van Helsing," which are not dependent on dialogue, did not play as well as expected in America but became huge hits in many other countries, making several times what they made in the U.S. box office. Thankfully, the so-called specialty divisions of the big studios still try to depict the prevailing mood of the country. But consider a specialty film like "Sideways," which is the best American movie I have seen this year: it has no international stars and no action, and because the film shifts in tone from comedy to drama in nearly every scene, it is not likely to be easily comprehended by a worldwide audience. As far as the big studios go, "Sideways" is essentially a foreign film made in America.
But "Shrek 2" is not. An American entry in this year's Cannes competition, "Shrek 2" continues the animated saga of the lovable, irascible green creature (whose voice is that of the international star Mike Myers doing a Scottish brogue); his bride, the princess; and his faithful donkey (voice by the very funny Eddie Murphy). "Shrek 2" has the added bonus of Antonio Banderas, who gives the growing Latin market a chance to cheer for his Puss in Boots. As charming as "Shrek 2" is, I found it an unsettling example of how big studios represent the United States to the world. While other countries have interpreted globalism as a chance to reveal their national psyches and circumstances through film, America is more interested in attracting the biggest possible international audience. At Cannes, war-torn Croatia was shown through the eye of the director Emir Kusturica, the French elite was exposed in "Look at Me," the fear of female genital mutilation was depicted in Senegal's "Moolaade." And so on. America had a green fantasy creature and Michael Moore, who went on to win the festival's top prize with his documentary "Fahrenheit 9/11."
Wandering through Cannes and fighting my way into screenings, I felt a growing frustration that what I loved about American movies (and, by extension, about America) was in short supply, and when I mentioned this to Walter F. Parkes, head of motion pictures at DreamWorks SKG, he said: "I know what you're talking about." Parkes, like most of the big studio heads, is in a bind: corporate finances dictate that they cast the widest net possible. That has become the mandate of the studio president. DreamWorks, for instance, made "Shrek 2" and is trying to parlay the $436 million success of the film (it is currently the third-highest-grossing movie of all time) into a profitable I.P.O. for its animation division. "Films are the one product that we have that's the first choice around the world," Parkes continued. "So, then, the questions to ask are: Is this the one place that people's fears about globalization are coming to fruition? Is America dominating world culture through the movies it produces? And if so, does that come with certain responsibilities beyond economic ones? These are questions that we have to ask ourselves. And they are different questions than we asked even five years ago."
The day before "Shrek 2" was set to have its premiere at Cannes, DreamWorks's representatives placed large plastic bags full of green Shrek ears along the Croisette, the bustling beachfront walkway that dominates the action in Cannes. Even before the festival began, it was feared that protesting French workers would shut it down over a labor dispute. On this day, a group of hundreds gathered outside the Carlton Hotel to denounce the war in Iraq. They were chanting in French for about 45 minutes, until the police broke up the demonstration. Then, as the protesters dissipated into the throng on the Croisette, I watched them, one by one, put on the free Shrek ears. They were attracted, it seemed, by the ears' goofiness and sheer recognizability. Immediately, the crowd, once filled with political fervor, was transformed into a sea of cartoon characters.
I felt embarrassed: America seemed, at best, an absurd, vaguely comic place.
When you look at the big international hits of the year, it is easy to understand why the world views America with a certain disgust. Shrek may be a lovable (and Scottish) ogre, but nearly every other global hero in American movies is bellicose, intellectually limited, stuck in ancient times or locked in a sci-fi fantasy. American films used to be an advertisement for life in the states -- there was sophistication, depth, the allure of a cool, complex manner. Now most big studio films aren't interested in America, preferring to depict an invented, imagined world, or one filled with easily recognizable plot devices. "Our movies no longer reflect our culture," said a top studio executive who did not wish to be identified. "They have become gross, distorted exaggerations. And I think America is growing into those exaggerated images.
My fear is that it's the tail wagging the dog -- we write the part, and then we play the part."
II. Sorry, We Don't Film Here Anymore
Several months after I returned from Cannes, I phoned nearly every big studio chief and queried them about the wages of globalization. Not surprisingly, they all maintained that they chose movies on the basis of whether a script or story grabbed them, and not according to the dictates of a global audience. And yet they also acknowledged that they typically build their slate around the so-called event films, like another "Harry Potter" or "Star Wars" or "Matrix" installment. Event films are big and expensive and conceived for the largest audience imaginable. To keep costs down, most of them are shot in other countries. "It used to be Canada," said Jeff Robinov, president of production at Warner Brothers Pictures, the industry leader in the global film business. "But the Canadian tax-incentive laws were redefined. London has instituted rebates that have lured production there.
